


Blank Canvas

by eleanor_lavish



Category: Bandom, MCR - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-11
Updated: 2007-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleanor_lavish/pseuds/eleanor_lavish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Frank works at a tattoo shop, Ray is a filmmaker, and Gerard is still afraid of needles.  Short and sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Canvas

It’s pretty slow in the studio and Frank takes the time to lay down on the sofa in the front, eyes closing almost the second his head hits the cushions. It was a long fucking night, especially for a Wednesday, and Frank is pretty sure he was still drunk until about 11am. Luckily, the frat boy who was sitting in his chair at ten didn’t know that. “Hey,” Jeph yells from the back of the house. “I don’t pay you to nap, Iero!” Frank uses the fraction of energy he has left to flip Jepha off.

He doesn’t open his eyes again until the bell rings over the door. “Hey, um,” he hears the uncertainty in the voice, rough and reedy all at once, and sighs a little before sitting up. Newbies were _rarely_ fun. Especially when they’ve brought a friend. One is taller, red bushy hair fanning out over wide features and broad shoulders. The other is pale under dark, stringy bangs, fingers nervously fidgeting with a piece of paper.

“Frank?” Jepha yells out from the back of the shop. He’s been working on filling in a backpiece all morning, and from the outline Frank’s pretty sure it’ll take half the afternoon too.

“Got it!” he yells back and unfolds himself from the couch, eyeing it wistfully as he crosses behind the counter. “What’s up?” he asks the pair and the redhead steps forward, biting his lip a little.

“Hey,” he starts, a little unsure, and Frank grins at that voice again. Sort of like a little kid in a grownups body. “I’ve never, uh, gotten a tattoo before? And I’m kind of interested? Maybe on my shoulder blade?” He frames the whole thing like a question and Frank puts on his best enthusiastic grin.

“Special occasion?” he asks and the guy smiles wide this time, reaching his hand out to his friend who hands the paper over a little reluctantly.

“Yeah, totally. I finished work on this feature late last year. And it’s finally got a release date, and it’s my first editorial feature credit. And I really wanted to remember it, you know?” He lays the paper out on the counter. “Gerard sketched this up for me, and I’m hoping you can maybe—“

Frank switches his attention to the drawing in front of him. It’s an old-fashioned film reel, waved slightly like a banner, and in the center is intricate lettering Frank can only assume is the film’s title: _The Scarlet Hand_. It’s delicate but still bold, and Frank’s kind of jealous he isn’t getting this one himself. “You drew this?” he looks at the other guy, who shrugs a little. “It’s really fucking good.”

The guy—Gerard—smiles, finally meeting Frank’s eyes. Frank can feel his mouth go a little dry. He wasn’t really expecting the guy to be... _pretty_. “Thanks, but Ray actually--“

“Gerard went to art school. He works for the Cartoon Network,” Ray pipes up, and Gerard blushes faintly.

“I color in other people’s drawings,” he says with a slight eye roll, but Ray shakes his head.

“Either way,” Frank grins at them. “This is going to totally rock as a tattoo. If this is about the size you want, I don’t think we need to touch it up at all.”

Ray beams and Gerard glances as his toes, the blush fanning out over his cheeks. Frank bites his lip and feels a stupid, familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach and tries to cover by calling back over his shoulder, “Jepha! I got a blank canvas up here!” and winking at Ray.

“Then hold his hand and be the charming bastard you are, Frankie!” Jeph calls back.

“Come on, Ray. Let’s get you half naked so we can get this party started,” Frank grins and nods his head toward his table.

*

Gerard, it turns out, it a talker when he’s nervous. And needles, it turns out, make Gerard _very nervous_.

“Gee, come on,” Ray grits out and Frank can see where he’s squeezing Gerard’s hand as he shades a spot a little close to bone.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gerard says, stopping dead in the middle of his story about a network suit and a guy dressed at Captain America at his Starbucks.

Frank grins down at Ray’s back (it’s a nice back, Frank thinks, broad and tan and freckled) and says “Man, your job seems way more interesting than mine.” He looks up when Gerard huffs out a surprised laugh.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asks, and it’s the first time he’s looked at Frank since he picked up the needle.

“Dude, I was _napping on the couch_ when you got here,” he reminds Gerard but Gerard isn’t looking at his face anymore, he’s looking down at where the design is almost finished along Ray’s shoulder, tiny dots of blood still welling up where the newest lines cut across skin. “You like it? I tried to do it justice.”

“I. Yeah,” Gerard says quietly. “That’s just. Wow.”

“What?” Ray pipes up, a little nervous edge to his voice, and Gerard pats him on the arm.

“Dude, it’s really cool. It’s like... my art. But permanent.”

Ray makes a pleased sound and Frank meets Gerard’s eyes quickly, bites his lip to keep from saying something really dumb like _you should totally quit your job and come work here and draw all my designs and we’ll be an unstoppable tattooing force of awesomeness_. Instead, he bows his head and concentrates on getting the “H” in “Hand” just right.

Jepha swings by to check up when he’s done, more out of curiosity than concern and he makes Gerard blush again with praise of the design, and makes Frank blush a little too when he compliments the precision of the shading. Jeph even gets his camera out to document it for Frank’s work binder.

Ray is riding an endorphin high and barely winces when he slips his shirt back over his bandaged shoulder. Gerard sits quietly through Frank’s whole “care and feeding of your new tattoo” speech, and they’re already paying at the counter when Frank finally gets up enough nerve.

“Hey,” he says to Gerard as Ray is signing his receipt. “If you were ever. I don’t know if you do freelance stuff, but--” Gerard looks at him quizzically and Frank just fucking dives in. “Can I get your number? In case, like, I have some sort of tattoo drawing emergency and need back up?”

“Tattoo drawing emergency?” Gerard asks with a grin, but he’s blushing again and Frank leans over the counter to get closer.

“Or, you know, some other kind of emergency maybe. Some sort of dinner and a movie emergency.”

Gerard blinks at him until Ray elbows him in the side and says “Dude, give him your damn number,” with a smile in his voice.

Gerard recites it out and Frank makes him check that it’s right in his phone before Ray takes Gerard by the elbow and leads him toward the door. Gerard still looks a little like a deer in the headlights when he glances back at Frank one last time. Frank winks just to see him blush again, and tucks the phone into his back pocket.

He’s got a feeling there will _definitely_ be some sort of emergency this weekend.  



End file.
